


Bed of Roses

by RoeOcean



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Enoshima Junko Being An Asshole, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Komaeda Nagito Is Obsessed With Hope, Unreliable Narrator, Warning: Enoshima Junko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 03:50:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20302984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoeOcean/pseuds/RoeOcean
Summary: “We’re sealing the deal with something much more intimate than some stupid old handshake. This is how I do things with everyone. Uncomfortable? You can leave,” Junko pointed a finely sharpened claw to the spiral staircase. “But you walk out of here, and there is no deal. I shred your contact card, and I never return your calls, or even acknowledge you at school. Hell, I can make it so that you never see me again. Got it?”Mikan must ratify a verbal financial agreement between the Queen of Despair and a boy who thinks he's ten steps ahead of everyone else. The truth is harder to discern.





	Bed of Roses

Soft voices drifted in through the open door. Mikan stirred in her sleep, lazily lifting one eyelid, then the other, vaguely surprised to awaken to a darkened room. It was a little too warm, almost stuffy, and the air was heavily scented with lavender and violet incense. Dim candlelight filtered in through a curtain of her hair. Her mind felt fuzzy, but she was coming out of the haze, just as she had done the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that, and—

One of her arms was wrapped around another body, lovely pale and lithe, naked from the waist—no, just naked. The girl’s long blonde hair was draped over her shoulder, curls continuing off the other side of the bed, away from Mikan, a warm milkweed waterfall. There was another body, or perhaps just a lump of pillows, swallowed by plush comforters on the other side of the bed.

Neither the blonde nor the other person made any sign that they were awake. Mikan moved her fingers from the girl’s breast to her throat and was greeted pleasantly by a steady pulse. Then, just because an errant thought urged her to check, she slid her hand back down the curves and felt for the rise and fall of the girl’s diaphragm. It was also steady, and slow in sleep. Mikan smiled.

She would have taken care to reach over to the other body (if there was one) and attempt to feel their vitals too, but she did not want to wake this sleeping beauty.

Mikan withdrew and stretched, arms high above her head, and licked her lips. She was thirsty, as she usually was after a long night pleasuring her beloved’s guests. Sometimes her beloved joined in, though more often nowadays she did not. Although, Mikan could’ve sworn she was here yesterday… maybe that was just the pink haze in her brain mixing up her memories.

Mikan sat up, carefully placed both feet on the floor, and searched for her dress with her eyes. She didn’t trust herself to stand, not yet, not with her semi-muddled mind still trying to orient itself.

Clothing lay scattered across the room: outerwear far-flung in the darker corners, intimates trailing to the bed like stepping-stones leading across a river, telling the story of last night. She saw a pair of boxer briefs and an undershirt, and almost glanced over her shoulder to the other lump in the bed. Not pillows after all.

So many guests were coming all hours of the day that it was difficult to remember each one she entertained. Her beloved asked her to keep records, so of course she did, wrote them as neatly and precisely as if they were patients rotating through the revolving door of a hospital. And it _was_ just as if they were checking into a hospital. Her beloved’s hospital, where Mikan was the Head Nurse in charge and she took care of everyone. All their needs poured into her, and her love flowed out. And they came back, again and again, to be taken care of. Mikan had been seeing some of them for months.

They wanted her. They could do anything they pleased with her. Mikan allowed it all. 

It was just as her beloved had promised her: Paradise.

She spotted her dress rumpled and askew, hastily thrown on the flat screen television directly across from the large, triple king-sized bed she and her other companions had enjoyed. Mikan squinted blearily at her clothes, trying to focus. It was still too warm, and she felt sticky. Something hadn’t quite dried between her thighs.

Perhaps she shouldn’t even attempt to put her dress on at all. She would just get it dirty. Her beloved and the others wouldn’t care, but Mikan would. She liked to look at least a little pretty for their guests, at least a little clean. If no one brought it up she would often call attention to it, _to her filth_, and beg them to forgive her rudeness. She would plead with them to let her tear off her soiled clothes and for them to whip her with the shreds. Only one person had taken up her offer so far, but had been so gracious, so diligent in the whipping that Mikan could overlook the other guests’ reluctance and question herself slightly less each time someone passed on the punishment.

Without her dress she was left with what she had fallen asleep in: a sweaty white leather collar that almost chafed in its tightness, attached via a leather strip that separated her breasts to a lacy corset snug around her waist. Ribbons hung from the corset, fanciful detailing that she usually used as garters to hold sheer nylon stockings up. Her stockings were gone, though. Mikan faintly recalled a guest, not the blonde, but the… blond?... stripping them off her, clawing with frantic fingers and devouring with feral eyes.

As she studied the tops of her legs in the flickering light of the candle, small red markings that hadn’t fully healed yet jumped out at her, reminding her that the guest who loved to whip sometimes amused herself by pinning the corset ribbons to the tender meat of Mikan’s upper thighs. She (Mikan, that is) always had a somewhat difficult time going to bed like that. That particular guest hadn’t been here in a few days, but Mikan wondered if it would please her to keep the wounds fresh. She fingered a ribbon pin in slow, cloudy thought.

A distinct, salty odor told Mikan that her panties were not there, forgotten somewhere in the darkness, but she was wearing knee-high socks with little red crosses on them. They were cute, one of her best pairs, gifted to her by her beloved’s sister. Had one of her guests dressed her in these? 

She plucked at an errant thread at the top of her left sock, and tested her balance by slowly easing herself off of the bed and into a standing position.

Feeling light-headed but steady after a few moments, Mikan made her way to the slightly ajar entrance to the room, intending to close the door. Hand on the panel and ready to slide it shut, she paused when she realized a voice was speaking just over in the other room. It was probably the same one that had woken her up a couple minutes before. Its tone was hushed, conspiratorial, dark. Mikan could not make out the words.

She leaned, very carefully, moving her body almost in increments, until her eye was flush with the frame, peeking out of the slit afforded by the smallest opening.

The adjoining room was almost as dark as the one she was in, lit only by sconces inset to the walls. It was what one might call a family room, or a living room. Large and octagonal in shape, with one spiral staircase leading to the main and upper floors of the bunker.

A pit was sunk in the middle, heart-shaped and filled to the brim with peach liquor, lightly raining from an oculus. It lent the room a sickly sweet, cloying fragrance and a vague, comforting murmur that only fountains can provide. Mikan had been tossed into the pool on more than one occasion, and her attempts to swim back to the ledge through the syrup always gave the guests of the evening much amusement. 

Many of the doors off this central room led to party/bed chambers, such as the one Mikan and her guests had claimed last night. As far as Mikan could tell, all the other doors were closed. There was no light shining down from the spiral staircase or the oculus.

On the far side of the room, not quite in the corner, there were two plush loveseats facing each other over a lacquered tea table. Mikan spied her beloved sitting on the one angled in her direction, and her heartbeat fluttered. Junko’s gorgeous hair was down in beachy waves, and she wore a nude, second-skin nightgown studded with pink diamonds that teased the imagination, barely obscuring her nipples and crotch. Her perfect, pale arms and legs were crossed in a threatening but very sexy boss pose. Hot pink, fluffy slippers caressed her feet. She was listening with rapt attention to the person across from her.

Mikan couldn’t see the other person very well, but it appeared that whoever it was was speaking very low and fast. His head was bowed to the floor, his gaze on the table in front of him. Mikan tilted forward, turning as if to place her ear to the slit, to drink in the hurried, whispered words.

At the last second she pulled back, shaking her head in confusion. Her hand slipped as she forced herself away from the door, and the panel nudged a little bit more open.

“Darling.”

Mikan felt a thrill shudder through her body as her gaze refocused and she locked eyes with her beloved. It was amazing that she could spot her from across such a large expanse, haloed through a waterfall of peaches glinting sweetly in the dim light. Time seemed to slow as the two girls stared at each other. Mikan’s breath hid in her chest, surrounding her stuttering heart.

The third in the room, keeping his head bowed, glanced around his shoulder to Mikan. His eyes widened as recognition hit, then narrowed as disgust overflowed his senses.

“Come.” Junko motioned Mikan to join her at the loveseat, her delicate nails beckoning the girl thither. Mikan could never resist such a siren song. All her beloved had to do was call, and she was there. Instantly. Unquestioningly.

While she still felt a little unsteady, Mikan did her best to skirt around the pool and tiptoe lightly to the pair. As she neared, she found that she did know the other person: Komaeda Nagito, a boy in her class who seemed to get along with no one. He had been friendly towards her in the past, but now, as she side-eyed him through the messy sweep of her bangs, a frown had turned his sunken, gaunt face even more unmistakably uncivil.

A scent of something, something that reminded her of antiseptic soap and rubbing alcohol, lay on top of a darker smell that clung to him. No, that _emanated_ from him. The second layer was bitter, ashy. It made the inside of her mouth taste unclean. Her nose wrinkled, and for a split second their faces matched in mutual aversion. 

Junko indicated the ground by her feet when Mikan was close enough. “Sit.”

“Yes, my love,” Mikan squeaked, her voice coming out a little hoarse and high, shaky from the haze still wrapped around her brain. She folded her legs underneath her and sat as upright as she could on the icy marble flooring. Her body wanted to shiver from the cold, but she would never displease her beloved, especially in front of a guest.

“…I’d rather you let her go back to bed, Enoshima. Our discussion is not meant for anyone but you,” Komaeda said quietly. His stare was fixed on Mikan’s bare breasts, nipples stiff in the chill her ass was feeling from the floor. He didn’t seem embarrassed by her nakedness, merely interested. Perhaps a little too interested. Mikan simply looked at him, and sat up a bit straighter, causing her breasts to bounce and lift.

Komaeda sneered and turned his focus back to Junko.

“My darling stays where she is.” Junko smiled, placing one hand on Mikan’s head and another under her own chin, leaning forward with a sinister, perfectly plucked brow arch. “Oh, what, you don’t like it? I did hear you’re not exactly fond of girls.”

“Rumors do seem to flock to you,” Komaeda said, averting his gaze as Junko’s hand left Mikan’s head and reappeared at her neck, stroking it. This time Mikan did allow herself a tiny shiver. She might’ve also let out a small moan.

Junko seemed to be satisfied with his answer, although Mikan couldn’t be sure he had given anything away with his statement. Her beloved took lead of the conversation once again. “Anyway, back to the heart of the matter. You mean to tell me you’re against everything I’m doing, you want to see me stopped at all costs, and you hate me with such passion that I suspect my followers will decry your plan out of envy. Tell me again why you want to give me 100 million yen to fund my ‘extremely wicked, shockingly evil and vile ambitions,’ as you call them.”

Mikan blinked. She sat, trembling slightly from Junko’s fingers on her neck, trying to absorb the proceedings unfolding before her.

“Because,” Komaeda began slowly, with a quick glance to and away from Mikan’s glassy gaze, “I want to see the Earth move against you. I want the never-ending spring of despair inside you to erupt so violently that the Hope of the World must rise and dam it forever, leading to a new era of peace. In order for me to do that, for me to witness a worldwide war of despair versus hope raging on a scale that neither you nor anyone else living or dead could have ever known would happen, I would like to gift you a sizeable piece of my fortune.”

Junko sat back, leaving a cold spot on Mikan’s neck, and re-crossed her legs, taking care to slide them against each other in such a way that both Mikan and Komaeda caught a scent of something savory and musky.

Mikan saw Komaeda’s hands clench at the fabric of his pants, and his throat worked to swallow as he deliberately kept his head bowed to the table. She caught his eyes cutting towards her face again, but her expression remained blank, her eyes staring at nothing.

The gentle peach rain dripped, and a drop of sweat fell from Komaeda’s forehead to his fist.

After a few moments, Junko said, “So what you’re telling me is, you’ve got a huge hard-on of Hope, and you think I’ve got giant tits of Despair, and you wanna fuck ‘em until the planet orgasms its way into a new golden age? Like, the bigger the Despair, the bigger the Hope that follows it? Boy, you have some problems.” Junko threw back her head and laughed.

It was a deep, luscious sound that Mikan loved to hear. Her expression must have melted, but Komaeda could not keep the disgust from returning to his face, hate hardening his already frosty countenance.

“I would not put it that way, but—”

Junko held one finger up. “Upupupu, but nothing! You wanna get with me, ya sicko? I don’t care what your reasons are, I’ll take that cold hard cash. I can always use the pocket money to buy me and my baby something nice.” She gripped the top of Mikan’s head and squeezed, pulling on her hair. Mikan struggled not to move, or to moan, but a little one leaked out anyway.

“P-pocket money?” Komaeda seemed genuinely surprised, and doubt replaced dark distaste on his features.

“Yuh-huh. I’ve got some funders with deep, deep pockets. Almost as deep as my ‘abyssal well of Despair’ you keep referring to. Those guys? Well, they have problems too, but I don’t think I’ve seen anyone as twisted as you. At least, not in a while…” she trailed off wistfully, as if she were remembering something, and laughed at Komaeda’s shock.

“Well now, I wasn’t expecting this. But I’m glad you’re willing to accept. I’ll have the paperwork sent over by dawn.”

Junko nodded, a wicked grin lighting up her face more than the sconces ever could. “Cool, cool. Okay, let’s seal the deal, then.”

Komaeda hesitated, then held out his hand, probably thinking that Junko meant to shake it. Seeing him offer it so carefully must have spurred her glee, because she cackled and said, “Oh, no, no. I want to ratify this promise between us… in a more personal way.”

“Hm?” Again, though with a small smile plastered on his lips, confusion played across his brow, making it wrinkle. His hand was still aloft over the table; brittle nails and dry skin illuminated in the dim light.

Junko snapped her fingers. “Darling.”

Mikan, who had been sleepily following the exchange with dull wonder, instantly moved to her hands and knees and crawled to Komaeda’s loveseat, positioning herself in front of his closed legs. Everyone was still for a moment.

“Huh?” Komaeda’s arm dropped and fled to his side, and his eyes narrowed with distrust. “What—what are you ordering her to do?”

“We’re sealing the deal with something much more intimate than some stupid old handshake. This is how I do things with everyone. Uncomfortable? You can leave,” Junko pointed a finely sharpened claw to the spiral staircase. “But you walk out of here, and there is no deal. I shred your contact card, and I never return your calls, or even acknowledge you at school. Hell, I can make it so that you never see me again. Got it?”

Mikan turned her face up to Komaeda, silently staring at him, waiting, as he looked from the staircase to Junko, to the closed doors all around the room. She watched his eyes slowly rove as he contemplated an escape, a way out of this that would still leave his deepest wish, to see Junko Enoshima successfully fail, intact.

“Clock’s ticking, Komaeda.” Junko said with relish, clearly enjoying toying with him. Mikan was so happy that her beloved was having fun, and that she got to be part of it. Nothing in the entire world made her feel more joy than playing a part in her beloved’s game. Even when she was told to do things like this, she always liked to think that the person receiving her love was her love. Or, at least, was an extension of her beloved.

Yes, for they all of them were her, and were hers.

Mikan could reach into the depths of love inside herself and find a grail for everyone. She could even love Komaeda, if her beloved commanded.

“A-alright.” His voice, for the first time since she had heard it, wavered.

Junko flashed a million-watt, shit-eating grin. “Oh my god, finally! Darling, you know what to do. Let’s make this boy wet.”

“My love, as you wish,” Mikan chirped, voice higher than ever and becoming slightly breathy. She liked doing this. It was the first step, something she had done for everyone else. Now Komaeda would become part of Junko. Part of the Despair.

Mikan sat up on her knees, tiny hands fluttering close to Komaeda’s belt. She missed the way his gaze clung to her heavy breasts, focusing on the stiff peaks of her nipples, her pink areolas, and the large blue veins close to the surface of the skin on both. Purple stretch marks at the tops of her breasts marred her otherwise pale complexion. 

Komaeda’s fingers twitched, and he licked his dry lips. He allowed Mikan to undo his belt and unbutton the top of his pants. Her hands moved quickly. She was well-practiced.

“Should I stand up to take them off?” His sudden question, soft though it was, broke the silence harshly.

“Whatever you like,” Mikan whispered reverently. “You may choose.”

Junko groaned on the other loveseat. “C’mon, I haven’t got all day.” Her hand was already in her underwear, teasing her clit. “I’ve got people to do and things to destroy.”

“O-okay,” Komaeda murmured, and didn’t move. Mikan took this as an invitation to unzip the front of his pants, revealing tight, grey boxer shorts. She could see the outline of his dick, but it did not look ready at all. Strange. They usually were more than ready by this point. This was out of the ordinary. Was she unwanted?

At the slightest hint of this suggestion, fear flooded her senses. Her eyes snapped up to his face, focusing with an intensity she hadn’t felt for days. “You… your cock… isn’t even hard. Why?”

Junko laughed, a short bark that sounded more like a scream, and stood up. “God, you guys are gonna take forever, aren’t you! Darling, come get me when you’re done. I’m going back to Nevermind and Kuzuryuu’s room. Bet I can make Nevermind squirt ten times before you bastards even get it going once.”

With that challenge sitting uneasily over the loveseats, Junko stalked off, kicking a huge splash of liquor up as she passed the pool. Mikan watched her go, aching for her presence the moment she left. She should finish this quickly and join her beloved and the other guests in bed for some more love-making before dawn.

“I’m sorry,” Komaeda said quietly, and Mikan slowly turned back to him. “Enoshima mentioned this, but, I’m not exactly… with girls, I don’t really…”

Mikan blinked. She tried to understand. It wasn’t her fault? But at the same time, she couldn’t help believing that it kind of was. Still, she wanted to be good for him. For her beloved. “I-it’s fine. You can lean back and close your eyes. It’ll be over soon if you don’t think about it so much.”

Komaeda smiled, but it was tight and strained. Mikan didn’t like it.

“You know, despite everything, I’m glad it’s you,” he said.

“Huh?” Mikan almost paused in pulling his boxers down his skinny hips, but her body was on autopilot. His dick was out before she finished voicing her surprise.

It was hairless, limp, and bleached-bone pale. Mikan immediately felt sorry for such a sad little thing. She moved to touch it, to cheer it up, but Komaeda caught her wrist.

“I was surprised to see you here, at first. I don’t know why, but I was…almost angry.”

“Oh no! P-please! Anger isn’t good for—”

“Let me finish,” Komaeda hissed, and his grip tightened on her wrist. Mikan quieted. She felt a pulse of something quicken her heart. “You, out of everyone, are the last person I thought I would see here, in her lair. But, as I thought about it, it began to make more and more sense. You’ve always seemed like such a sweet, innocent girl, but you allow others to treat you so poorly. You need them to behave like that to you, because that’s the only way you know how to survive. On scraps of friendship, food, and clothing… you think you’re having a feast, but really you’re in a famine.”

Mikan stared dully at Komaeda’s pale, bony hand on her wrist. This close, she could smell the deathly scent of his illness all over his body. It was going straight to her head.

“So Enoshima comes along and sees you acting like… like you’re a slave to everybody else’s desires. It’s the perfect disposition for a pet. She scoops you up and makes you her victim, and you… you’re here and… please stop looking at it like that.”

Mikan’s attention had wandered from Komaeda’s hand to his dick, which had begun moving, just a tiny bit, the more he talked about how he perceived Mikan’s life to be. Well, if he was excited by this, maybe she should encourage him. 

“I-I like being here. I’m treated well here.”

“Tsumiki, do you really think that?” He let go of her wrist and sat back, looking down at her with a mixture of pity and disgust.

Mikan cowed under his gaze, but walked her fingers across his hip to the dip in his lap where his dick lay bare, pallid and twitching. She gave it an experimental stroke, and it responded to her touch, lifting. He was a grower, she thought vaguely.

Komaeda groaned, and let his head fall back against the loveseat. He laid one of his arms across his eyes.

“I-I think, with everything she has me do, I’m, I’m lucky to be here,” Mikan stuttered, wrapping her small hand around his cock and beginning to jerk it, slowly, trying to make it excited enough to stand up.

“I wanted to be your friend, you know,” Komaeda said abruptly, and Mikan saw him bite his lip as she unexpectedly squeezed. His body had started to tremble from the sensations he was experiencing. It might’ve been his first hand-job; she had no way of knowing.

Mikan cooed, “Let me be your friend now, let me take care of you.”

“Nngh, this—no, this isn’t, this is not what friends do. You know how ma-many times I stuck up for you in class? You didn’t even use me. You never, ever used me…”

His dick was softening. This was not good. Mikan blurted the first thing that came to her mind, “It’s because I didn’t know! I’m sorry, I’m so stupid! I definitely would have used you if I knew that’s what you wanted me to do!”

Komaeda kept talking to the ceiling, hiding half his face beneath his arm. “Of course, it makes perfect sense why you didn’t respond to me in the way I wanted. I can see that now. You’re attracted to aggression. But I could never talk to you that way. You deserve better. You deserve something more hopeful.”

With this last word, his cock was once again alive in her hand, and Mikan took advantage by adding more fingers, and pumping a little bit harder.

“A-ah…” Komaeda moaned, and he surprised her by gripping her shoulder blindly, his nails digging into her flesh.

“Y-yes,” Mikan murmured, daring to inch her body forward, pressing her breasts to the tops of Komaeda’s knees, “I’m happy that you’re here now. See? I’m using you now. And, and you’re telling me such fascinating things, things I never knew.”

His entire body was shaking, and his hips were starting to move, to thrust up into her hands. Mikan slid her chest forward, deeper into Komaeda’s lap, and deftly enveloped his dick between her breasts. It was such a smooth transfer that he stopped ramming only for a second, savoring the delicious feeling of her velvety skin enclosing his member. Watery fluid was present on the tip, the beginnings of precum. This close, the smell of sickness had morphed into sweat; she tasted grimy salt as she flicked her tongue over the slit of his cock.

“Mm, nghh!” Komaeda grasped her other shoulder, and she gasped when she felt him break the skin. His dick was chafing the inner sides of her breasts now, rubbing them raw and red. She tried to kiss the tip as it neared her mouth, but he was moving too fast and she almost ending up biting it. As it was, she only had to stick her tongue out to catch the slit of his dick as it finished its arc up before it was sucked back down into the pillowy plushness of her breasts.

Every time her tongue caught him, his panting grew a little more fevered, a little more out of control. His hands kneaded her shoulders desperately, and when she looked up to see his face, concerned because she felt a drop of something hit her cheek, Mikan was more than a bit surprised and frightened to find him grinning with wild, frenzied eyes and an open mouth streaming with saliva.

“Komaeda!” Mikan squeaked. “You’re—”

She was cut off as his mouth crashed into hers, kissing and biting so sloppily that their teeth clicked together and her senses were overwhelmed by the sheer amount of wetness and inexperience. Komaeda’s saliva was pouring into her, and her throat was swallowing it automatically, in lieu of attempting anything else. When he began sucking at her tongue, she could feel the muscle ripping at the base of her jaw, and on instinct she tried to turn her head away. But he took her face in his hands with surprising strength, keeping her in place while he continued his assault. The taste of copper mixed with his sick slaver. It was like partaking in a kiss of death.

Paradise. 

“Agh, fuck.” Komaeda broke away from their kiss and gave one last, slow thrust up through Mikan’s breasts before ejaculating not an immodest amount of semen all over her collarbone and face.

“Oh. Oh my goodness,” she said in a small voice. It had been a while since a guest had come over her like that. She should be happy about it, and she was, but—

Komaeda’s entire body relaxed, and he reposed, resting against the loveseat with his arm thrown over his eyes again, like nothing had ever happened. His dick was still half-hard, but when she tentatively touched him he placed a hand over hers and sighed.

“You have to tell Enoshima that the deal has been confirmed, right?”

“Y-yes, but… do you… want more?”

A tiny, rueful smile tugged at his lips as he said, “I should go. I need to think some things over. Besides, you have other classmates to attend to right now.”

Komaeda nodded meaningfully over Mikan’s shoulder, and she turned carefully in that direction. There was light underneath the door to the room that she had come out of earlier. Her beloved must be charming her guests.

Mikan slid off Komaeda’s lap, rearranging herself back into a sitting position. The marble floor didn’t feel as cold to her now. She watched him as he tucked his dick back into his boxers and pulled up his pants, buckling them with clumsy fingers. Mikan wanted to help, but something told her that she shouldn’t. Instead, she simply stared at him with curious, clear eyes. The haze had finally worn off, it seemed.

“Will you come again?” she dared to ask, hands clasped in her lap, fidgeting just a little bit.

Komaeda stood up, smoothing his sweater over his waistband. Semen lightly spotted his pants legs, run-off from Mikan’s breasts. In fact, his seed was still dripping steadily into her lap from her face and chest.

“I’ll make an appointment. She’s hard to get ahold of, Enoshima.”

Mikan smiled, small and sweet. “You don’t need an appointment. I’m always ready to welcome you here.”

He paused, then nodded thoughtfully and bowed. “Thank you, Tsumiki. I’ll see you again.”

Mikan returned his bow, lowering her forehead almost to the floor but stopping short of pressing semen onto the tiles. It dripped down anyway, staining the marble.

She followed him with her eyes as he walked to the opposite corner of the room and ascended the spiral staircase. “Take care,” she said under her breath.

Then, slowly, she stood and made her way to the chamber that held her beloved heart. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me tell you, it took me like a month to write this and truth be told I'm still not completely satisfied with how it came out. Komaeda and Mikan are especially complex characters to write for, because they keep their motivations hidden at all times. You'd never know it to look at them that they're both sociopathic killers in love with one very wicked, wicked dead woman. Mikan is an unreliable narrator, even to herself. 
> 
> I actually wanted to write a Mikan/Komaeda fic back when I first started reading about the pair, right here on Ao3, probably sometime in 2014 or 2015, after I finished watching NicoB's LP of Super Dangan Ronpa 2. I had another idea for a Sonia/Komaeda fic that never happened (right now I'm more interested in Sonia/Kazuichi, Sonia/Gundham, and Sonia/Kuzuryuu, all of which have their good and bad fics, so, y'know, go read those if you wanna be stuck in rare-pair hell like me), but I never had a good enough idea that I wanted to write for Mikan/Komaeda. Until about a month ago. 
> 
> I was rewatching NicoB's LP of Super Dangan Ronpa 2 and whoa, what do you know, my love for Mikan and Komaeda and them being a couple just flared up again. It was an all-consuming thirst for me for a while, and I ripped through Ao3 to find the old fics and re-read them and blah blah blah, it was great, whatever. But, as I continued watching the LP and got to the end of the third trial, it struck me just how much Komaeda and Mikan interacted, and how PERSONAL Komaeda's condemnation of Mikan was when he found out, probably not for the first time, what her character was really like. He was so angry that she apparently did everything in service of despair, that his real emotions are particularly noticeable during the last moments they have together. And I was like, whoa, whoa, I don't remember this. Why is he saying all of this stuff? I mean, I already know that all of them were in love with Junko, they're all lovesick for their leader, and I thought that Komaeda might've had an inkling about that all along, so what's going on here? 
> 
> Well, one explanation is that he might've had a small crush on Mikan before he re-learned that she's committed to Junko. He defends her several times prior to the ending of chapter 3, and in the anime she's one of the few girls he interacts with on-screen. However, Mikan thinks he's creepy, which is kind of a weird reaction for her, right? She usually bows and scraps to others, it's how she thinks she has to act. Her harsh rejection of Komaeda signals that she thinks he has come on to her before (I'm kind of in the camp that Komaeda is mostly gay, but he fell in love with Junko at some point). Other writers must've picked this up and paired them together before I did, but I was just like, damn why didn't I put two and two together before? 
> 
> So I hope it comes across in this little story that Komaeda doesn't want to be into Mikan, but he kind of is. He also doesn't want to be into Junko, but damn she sexy. As for Mikan, she's into Junko way too much, and everyone who's a friend of Junko's is a lover of hers (Mikan's, that is). I tried to set up what I imagine could be a canon scenario: Mikan is Junko's sexy lap dog, fulfilling a role that Junko's probably too uncomfortable to assign Mukuro to (despite the anime playing up the twincest vibes). 
> 
> The story is set during a school break, early in Junko's plan of gathering a group of underlings. I know Junko "brainwashed" everyone into doing her bidding, but that's stupid and boring so I wanted to alter that part so that she's going around and manipulating people one by one. She's not forcing them to do anything, she's offering them a chance to live their deepest desires while also serving her. They know that she wants to destroy the world, and they're cool with it as long as they get a slice of the pie too. 
> 
> So, then I thought, how does Komaeda come into this? He's been hearing these underground rumors about Junko and he doesn't even know if they're true and he's like, "Okay, I've gotta do something about this. But what can I do? I'm just a piece of trash. And also I'm on the side of Hope. Oh, I know! I'll offer her money. She can't take over the world without money. If I donate enough money I'll be part of her inner circle and I'll see everything when it all comes crashing down. That'll be super sick." So Komaeda goes in, and he's, like, totally unprepared by how hot and also smart Junko is. That's what I like to think, anyway. The games and the anime are kind of like, eh, she's hot and smart but other people are hotter and smarter. No no no. I'd rather place Junko as the hottest and smartest chick in the game, because otherwise there's no way this could've go on for as long and been as devastating as it was. 
> 
> Right, so, over time Komaeda finds himself inexplicably falling in love with her. And probably also with Mikan. Spicy. My story is just one way it could've started. Thanks for reading!


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